


Tower of Swords

by auremin



Category: Room of Swords (Webcomic), 신의 탑 | Tower of God
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Tower of God AU, i just slid the ros people into the tog universe, i'm gonna be honest here this hasn't got anything to do with the tog characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auremin/pseuds/auremin
Summary: The legends spoke of a tower that pierced the sky; they spoke of swords that could rend shadow and light; they spoke of mystical powers and ticking black suns over red desert sands. They spoke of a voyager, a tyrant, a fallen saviour.The legends spoke to the Tower, and the Tower spoke right back.'He is coming,' they said. 'He arises once more. He will blink the dust from his eyes and shake the dirt from his blade and he will come for you again. This time,' they promise, 'this time, he will conquer.''He may try,' the Tower replies, shadows dancing in its depths, 'he will fail as many times as he returns.''He can fail,' the legends whisper back, 'He can fail as many times as he needs. You could not kill him a hundred times. He only needs to best you once.'





	1. Epigraph

Welcome, hopelessly lost souls,

To the Tower where dreams come true.

You have been honoured,

Blessed,

Chosen by the Tower,

To ascend to a place where you may find

What it is you desire most. 

Indeed,

Some of you may not survive.

But if you are afraid to die,

The Tower will take from you

What you wanted from its summit.

**/>Voyage 34**

**begins now.**


	2. The Gate

It has been thirty-three cycles since Gyrus first woke up in this deserted hellscape, and he still hasn’t dared to go into the Tower. 

He knows he should. There’s nowhere else for him to go, after all. 

But he hasn’t gathered the courage to do it yet. That’s his excuse—that, and the fact that he doesn’t remember anything outside of the desert he first appeared in.

_ Someday _ , he promises, _ I’ll open the door and see what’s inside. _

But he hasn’t, not yet. His memory is only just coming back to him in a chaotic patchwork of assorted names and facts; it wouldn’t be wise to barge into that strange place without his mind intact.

(At least, that’s what he tells himself instead of trying to enter.)

As of the thirty-third cycle, he knows a couple of things:

  1. His name is Gyrus Axelei
  2. He has a star-shaped companion named Scout
  3. He should probably enter the Tower.

While he waits for more pieces to come back, he takes to wandering the arid land aimlessly. There are purple crystals and towering spires of red rock, blasted by dust and wind into delicate sculptures. Once, he thinks he saw a castle over the heat-haze horizon. 

The place barely changes; the ravine always cleaves the scenery in half_ here _ , there’s usually a storm brewing over _ there _, and the Tower is ever-present, standing proudly and piercing the sky ahead no matter where he goes.

Briefly, he wonders just how tall it is.

_ 134 floors, _ his mind supplies. _ 134 so far. _

_ Shut up, _ he thinks. _ Tell me something useful for once. _

The information fades. 

His memories do not come back.

He’s disappointed, but hardly surprised. It’s been thirty-three cycles now and he only knows three things. 

Information is slow to come, but he can wait. That’s all he can do. That’s all he’s done, for every cycle since he first remembered _ something. _

One thing he discovered on his own is the sun-- in this strange world, the passage of time is marked by the strange black disc in the sky.

It looms overhead and carefully ticks away until the land is blanketed in darkness and-- no matter how far he drifts-- he wakes up in front of the Tower with the sun full again. 

He’s counted thirty-three cycles, but he knows it’s been longer than that. This desert is all he’s ever known, and he only started counting cycles when he discovered Scout. 

He glances up. The sun stares back, its disc now reduced to the thinnest of slices. 

As it disappears, so does he.

Gyrus comes to, lying beneath the same cliff as always, facing the Tower’s ornate carved doors as it has always been. The landscapes sculpted into the stone dance with shadows as the sun makes its return, marking the beginning of cycle thirty-four. 

He lies there for a brief moment and repeats what he knows. His name is Gyrus Axelei. He has a companion named Scout. He is looking for… 

(...An answer finally appears.)

He’s looking for _ Iro, _ for the _ Room of Swords. _ Who- where- what is that? 

(He chances a look at the Tower. It doesn’t change. It never does.)

In the corner of his eye, he sees a shadowy figure step out from behind a pillar of rock. 

He sits bolt upright. _ Who?! _

They beckon, and move towards the gates. He stumbles after it hurriedly. _ Someone else! _

“Hey, wait up!” he calls desperately. The figure only retreats quicker.

Just as quickly as it came, the figure is gone, slipping through the Tower doors and disappearing.

_ No-- _

And he remembers something more.

_ I’m trying to find the Room of Swords. I’m trying to escape something, find someone. I have to climb the Tower. I have to meet-- _

The recollection stops as suddenly as it started and he is left with two new pieces of information.

  1. He’s looking for the Room of Swords
  2. He has to climb the Tower.

_ I have to climb the Tower. _

“Scout,” he calls, and the star-shaped robot appears next to him. 

They peer into the sky together, at the Tower’s ornate carvings and its dizzying heights framed by wispy clouds and bright sky.

“...Do you think I can make it up there?”

“In this state,” Scout replies mechanically, “you have a 3.07% chance of survival.”

_ Reassuring, _ he thinks. 

But that 97.03% chance of death be damned; he needs answers and all he _ has _ right now is a name, a place, and the vaguest of feelings that he _ has to enter the Tower, _ because everything that he _ is _ , has been, and will ever _ be _ belongs at its summit. 

“Can I open the doors?”

“My systems detect no locking mechanism. The gate is composed of solid stone and measures--” 

“_ Can I open the doors?” _

“Affirmative.”

It doesn’t seem so affirmative. Gyrus presses a hand to the carved stone, cool underneath the blistering sun, and the Tower does not want him.

_ Only a chosen few are given the chance to conquer the Tower. You are not one of the Blessed. You cannot enter-- _

_ I will _ , he thinks. _ I have to find something inside. _

_ You cannot, _ the Tower seems to reply. 

_ I have to. _

Beneath his fingers, the stone cracks. Golden light weaves through the carvings, illuminating the figures and the symbols he’s never been able to decipher, and deep within the Tower, something stirs.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, the Gate slowly swings open. 

  


Inside the Tower is light. Blinding, searing light, so different to the darkness that Gyrus is used to. But just like the dark always did, the Tower sweeps him into nothingness as the sun disappears for the last time.

And just like that, he is gone from the lands of black sun and red spires of stone, taken from the green-blue sky and purple crystals.

And just like that, he awakens on a cold, ancient floor.

And just like that, Gyrus has managed to find his way into the Tower.


End file.
